A Christmas Carol
by Queen of Duct Tape
Summary: Of no relation to the book of the same name. A nice little holiday oneshot. FWHG


**A Christmas Carol**

By: QDT

**Disclaimer:** On the first day of Christmas, J.K. Rowling sent to me…the HP series in a tree. On the second day of Christmas, J.K. Rowling sent to me…two lawsuits and the HP series in a tree.(a pathetic parody written spur of the moment by QDT)

* * *

It was Christmas time at the Burrow. The radio was blaring familiar tunes throughout the house, and Hermione really could smell chestnuts roasting on the open fire. 

"Everybody downstairs! It's time to go!" Mrs. Weasley had decided that they all ought to go caroling around the muggle town square so as not to seem like a bunch of hermits living off of Ottery St., Catchpole. This was December 12, thirteen days before Christmas.

Twenty minutes later they were all ready to leave. Mrs. Weasley had bundled everyone up in at least seven coats, most of which were promptly discarded the minute she turned her back.

Mr. Weasley opened the door and they all went outside, where it was very cold and everyone wished they had kept all of their coats on. By the time they reached the town square only Mrs. Weasley, who had kept all of her coats, was the only (relatively) warm one in the group. Everyone else shivering. Except for, oddly, Hermione and Fred.

"So-o-o what-t-t do-o-oes ever-r-ryone want-t-t to-o-o sing-g-g fir-r-rst?" asked George, teeth chattering. Everyone else (excluding Hermione and Fred) was shivering just as badly as he was, so it was highly unlikely that they'd be able to sound remotely like carolers. In fact, they'd probably be lucky to say the same words at the same time.

"Why don't we just sing one long song and go home?" asked Fred, still not shivering.

"Does everyone know the Twelve Days of Christmas?" asked Hermione, not shivering either.

They all stared at her blankly. Finally, Harry asked, "Isn't that the deranged one with a bunch of alliterations?"

Hermione sighed. "Most of them are _not_ alliterations. Sure, the word choice could be better, but it's traditional, and you should know at least the first five verses."

"Why should we know the first five verses?" asked Fred, thinking that learning only five lines of song was taxing enough, why bother learning five whole verses?

"Everyone knows the first five verses."

"And how does everyone know the first five verses?"

"They just do. The 'five golden rings' bit is pretty memorable."

"Oh, _that_ song?" asked Ginny. "You could have just said so. I know most of the partridge in a pear tree song."

"I did say so. It's just called the Twelve Days of Christmas, not the partridge in a pear tree song."

General consensus showed that most of them did, indeed, know the Twelve Days of Christmas. Or at least part of it.

So they began. For the most part, they sang pretty much the same thing. After the fifth verse, however, most of them dropped out. Fred sang with Hermione through eight maids a-milking, but she had a lovely little solo on the last three verses. And, not having chattering teeth, she sounded pretty good. Certainly better than most of the people there. How many people do you know who can sing properly with chattering teeth?

* * *

They ate dinner that night in the living room. The kitchen was just too small to fit everyone in there. There were a lot of people. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy (although he didn't say much) and Penelope, Fred and George, both girlfriend-less, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione. Thirteen people just don't fit in one kitchen. 

"Hey, George, pass the carrots!" Charlie shouted over everyone talking. George didn't hear him, as he was busy insisting that Fred and Hermione were Eskimos, and were planning to move to Norway come spring. This was, of course, ridiculous. But George was a rather ridiculous person.

George's theory, however amusing, was a little too ridiculous for Hermione. "Really, George, it's a simple warming charm. If you had any sense, you'd have thought of it, too."

"Does that mean I have sense?" Fred asked through a mouthful of potatoes.

"If you call sense trying to talk through all of that, then yes. Otherwise, no, you're as bad as your brother."

"Which one?"

"The one who I said didn't have any sense."

"Well, that would probably be all of them. Including me, but I'm not my brother."

"Are you always this infuriating?"

"If I'm that infuriating, why are you grinning?"

* * *

The next day, Hermione awoke to the sound of…birds. Well, one bird, but it was making a lot of noise. It didn't seem to particularly like being chained to a tree in her bedroom. Actually, Ginny's bedroom, but it probably wouldn't have liked it any better if it were Hermione's bedroom. While the bird was rather annoying, Hermione couldn't help but appreciate the gesture. It was the first day of Christmas, December 13, and someone had sent her a partridge in a pear tree. She unchained the bird and set it loose outside, hoping partridges could survive the snow. 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and no one noticed that Hermione seemed rather preoccupied trying to figure out who had sent her a partridge in a pear tree on the first day of Christmas. They had obviously done it on purpose, because how often do you wake up with a pear tree, with a partridge in it on the first day of Christmas?

* * *

The morning after that, Hermione woke up to cooing. She sat up in bed, and there were doves on windowsill. They rather liked being in the warm house and weren't making nearly as much racket as the partridge had. They were not, Hermione noticed, turtledoves, but how many people do you know who can tell the difference between turtledoves and regular doves? 

This made Hermione even more perplexed. Who would go to the trouble to send her two turtledoves and a partridge in a pear tree?

* * *

On the third day of Christmas, Hermione awoke to squawking. Three French hens, of course. Well, regular hens, but hens nonetheless.

* * *

The next few days followed in a similar vein. Four calling birds (those were bloody annoying), and the five golden rings were the first gift that did not involve her getting up and setting animals free. The rings were rather lovely, although she did not wear them. How would she explain to the Weasley family that someone was reenacting the Twelve Days of Christmas to her? Fred and George would have a field day. The six geese a-laying were slightly disturbing, each popping out a new egg every five seconds at exactly the same time. The seventh day was fairly ridiculous, however. Whoever it was had waterproofed her room, and then filled it with water, so it resembled a swimming pool. And swans are rather temperamental birds, and did not respond kindly to Hermione's efforts to get them out. Eight maids a-milking was eight identical figurines of a maid milking a cow lined up beside her bed.

* * *

The next day, which she assumed would be nine ladies dancing, Hermione did not wake up to ladies dancing. Well, five ladies were dancing. Three were not. The last one was being tinkered with by a familiar redhead. 

"Fred?" asked Hermione in disbelief. He turned around quickly, knocking two of the figurines over.

"You weren't supposed to find out until Christmas Day," he told her, looking guilty.

"You've been doing this the whole time?" she asked, just to make sure.

"Er...yes." He looked incredibly cute when he was guilty, Hermione realized. "See, I thought that if I just asked you out that you'd think it was a joke, and would probably severely injure me"

Hermione cut him off. "You wanted to ask me out?"

"Er...yeah."

"Then why don't you just ask?"

"Hey," he said. "Wanna go out with me sometime?"

"I'd love to." And then, for the second time in as many minutes, Hermione was completely shocked by something Fred did. This time, however, it was because he had stood up and then leaned down to kiss her right on the lips. Which was, by Hermione's standards, a pretty nice way to wake up.

* * *

_**fin**_


End file.
